


Blood like wine (she was so divine)

by Give_Me_A_Karking_KitKat



Category: Murder Most Unladylike Series - Robin Stevens
Genre: Attempted Murder, Daisy is a menace, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Murder, Spooky Souls Event 2020, Violence, also, i guess, so idk what to do about that, this simultaneously gives the air of being written post DSS while also just after DITS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:01:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27008518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Give_Me_A_Karking_KitKat/pseuds/Give_Me_A_Karking_KitKat
Summary: In which: Daisy makes a series of bad decisions, Hazel despairs, Alexander yells at the police, and George regrets his choice in footwear.
Relationships: Alexander Arcady & George Mukherjee & Daisy Wells & Hazel Wong, Alexander Arcady/Hazel Wong, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	Blood like wine (she was so divine)

"Daisy, are you entirely sure we're allowed to come too?" Alexander asked hesitantly.

"Oh absolutely not, but that's the fun of it!" She responded, grinning. Her fake vampire teeth gave it a sharp edge. Hazel stared at her disapprovingly. "Alright, alright, I _also_ know how to sneak you in if the obvious method fails. You guys are no fun."

"That's not particularly reassuring, Daisy." George said, frowning, "Breaking and entering should not be your go-to solution."

"It's not really breaking and entering if I'm invited, is it." She said rhetorically, rolling her eyes.

"No Daisy, it's very much still breaking and entering if _they're_ not invited." Hazel pointed out, an eyebrow raised. Alexander made a noise of agreement.

"Oh come on!" She whined, folding her arms petulantly. "Don't be such spoilsports! I'm the president, so you should listen to me - but also, it's _Halloween!_ Would it kill you to live a little?"

"Yes." George said, deadpan.

"She makes a good point." Alexander interjected, smiling almost wistfully. "Halloween's the one night of the year where you're allowed to act however you desire, and no one really cares!"

"Fitting for you to dress as a clown then, Alexander," Daisy said, no loyalty to the person taking her side, "since you act like one."

Alexander shot her the single most offended look in the history of humanity, mouth gaping open. Hazel elbowed Daisy in the ribs.

"Don't be so rude, Daisy!" She admonished, "Alexander's **brilliant** , and I think he looks smashing!"

"You would." Daisy and George said in sync. They shared an exhasperated glance.

Hazel glared at them both, blushing. Alexander remained as oblivious as ever.

"I think your costume's great, too!" He said, grinning his 100 gigawatt smile. Hazel blushed even deeper.

"On the note of costumes," Daisy started, quickly changing the topic before it could dissolve further into Hazel's crush, "I can't believe you also came as a vampire. Stealing my thunder like that." She glared at George.

"Am I really stealing your thunder if my costume outranks yours in every way? Honestly, you're going to catch that cape on something and choke."

"How dare you! I'm not careless! And your vampire costume is so _boring,_ how on earth can you claim it's better than mine? It's just a glorified suit."

"At least my "glorified suit" won't cause my demise."

"Please, can we _not_ argue about who's outfit's worse?" Hazel butted in, swishing her broomstick threateningly. "We've got places to be, and we can't wait for you to finish this conversation, else we'll be here all night.

"And anyway," she added, grinning, "my witch outfit is clearly superior."

Daisy gasped in mock offence, and George put a hand on his heart dramatically. Alexander started giggling, and then they all dissolved into laughter.

"You are right, though," Daisy said, skipping forward a few paces, "we probably want to get there soon, else the night will be over before it's begun."

Under a full moon, the quartet of detectives set off, grinning and laughing and altogether enjoying their night out.

Unfortunately, such a happy mood would not last.

⁂

The old manor house stretched before them looked incredibly lively, lights coming from every room and noise escaping the front door in shrieks and laughs. Its stone walls were decorated with bats and cobwebs, and it seemed as though the owners had gone all out. A doorman stood by the front door, dressed as a zombie.

"I'll go ask the doorman if I can bring a few extra guests. You stay here, so you won't be recognised if we have to sneak in." Daisy said, pointing in his direction. She bounced off, cape flapping dramatically in the wind.

The trio watched as she approached the doorman, bouncing up to him like a kid on candy, and said something, grinning. The doorman paused, chuckled, responded, and sent her on her way.

She came back to them grinning just as brightly, and Hazel sighed. Daisy was Daisy, and she always had a backup plan- even if that backup plan somehow always involved _climbing._

She seized Hazel's arm, and dragged her around, into the back garden, the boys following a bit like lost dogs. Seemingly knowing _exactly_ where to go, she pulled them to a halt next to a walled garden.

"Up here!" She said, still grinning like a Cheshire cat. In one quick motion, she was up the wall like a monkey, costume hardly limiting her movement at all.

Alexander turned to Hazel, smiling brightly. "Who wants to go next?" He asked, looking over at George.

"Not me." Hazel muttered, trying (and failing) to put her broomstick somewhere it wouldn't get in the way.

"Oh -" George said, noticing her troubles, "Alex, do you have any clown handkerchiefs, or the like? We need to tie that broom onto something."

Alexander beamed, producing a scarily long handkerchief rope from _somewhere_ and presenting it to Hazel. "Will this help?"

"Yes, you're a lifesaver." She said, securing the broom on her back.

He lit up, and then looked up at Daisy, who was swinging her feet idly. "I think I'll go next." He said, carefully finding his footing on the old wall. His ascent was much slower than Daisy's, but also much safer. When he reached the top, he called down, "The view's lovely from up here! Do come up!"

George sighed, grumbled, "I can't believe I'm climbing over someone's garden wall for this." and began hoisting himself up the wall.

"Oh come on George, don't be such a wet blanket!" Daisy cried, from her seat on the highest section of the wall. She was grinning like a madwoman, fangs looking surprisingly real in the moonlight, and Hazel suddenly realised that Daisy was really very excited about Halloween. For some reason, this did not fill her with empathetic happiness, and instead filled her with dread.

Hazel herself was struggling up the wall, her hat not helping her visibility at all. "Daisy, why do _we_ have to climb up the wall? We're _invited_. Only the boys needed to do this." She asked, fumbling for a better grip. She **hated** heights. When she was neat the top, Alexander offered her a hand, which she gladly took.

"Because this is way more exciting, of course!"

Hazel groaned. "You didn't even _try_ to get the doorman to let us in, did you. You just decided we were breaking and entering without even asking!"

"Got it in one!" Daisy responded, still grinning madly. "Why did you think I was wearing climbing shoes?"

"I had hoped it was for the costume, but now I see that was naïve optimism."

"In related news." George said, finally making it to the top, palms raw, "I'm really not dressed for this. My shoes have almost no traction."

Daisy shrugged unsympathetically. "Another reason why my costume is superior to yours."

Hazel removed her broom from her back, and (carefully, because despite Daisy's catlike balance, they were still rather high up) thwacked her with it. George and Alexander snickered. Daisy scowled playfully, and reached over to flick Hazel in the forehead. At Hazel's, "Oi!", Daisy scrambled down the wall, laughing, and Hazel hastily threw her broom onto the ground before climbing after her, the boys dissolving into full-on laughter above them.

They chased each other around the garden for a little bit, laughing until they were breathless, and Daisy was far happier than anyone had seen her for a while. Alexander, and then George, had slid down the wall to join them, and now George was half-scowling at his shoes, while Daisy cackled unsympathetically in the background.

"I should have worn different shoes." He sighed, looking at the countless fresh scuff marks.

"The outfit wouldn't be complete without them, though." Alexander pointed out, butting shoulders with George. "It completes the whole 'Count Dracula' look you have. Shoes less pointy than that wouldn't do it justice."

George nodded, and said, "True. But my feet might hurt less. The price we pay for fashion." His voice was very serious and deadpan, face solemn.

Hazel snickered, and Daisy laughed so much she had to pause to gulp for air. George stared flatly at her, looking completely unimpressed- aside from the small quirk of his lips, which gave away his good humour.

"Not to make us rush, but don't we have a party to go to?" Alexander asked, grinning softly.

"Oh, yeah," Daisy said, seemingly just remembering, and then led them through the garden to the servants entrance. Something about breaking and entering for a house party made the quartet crack up, and so when they slipped into the house through the disused door, they were giggling the whole time. Daisy led them through the many twists and turns to the main house, where loud laughter could be heard.

"Daisy, how _do_ you know your way around here so well?" Hazel asked, tugging on her cape to get her to slow down a little.

"Oh, you know," Daisy waved her hand, "this is my second cousin (once removed)'s house."

George nodded, like that made sense, while Alexander and Hazel shared a bewildered glance.

Daisy sighed despairingly. "Hazel, I would have thought you, at least, could understand that by now. You've both been here _forever._ "

Alexander opened his mouth to ask why she didn't expect him to know, thought for a second, and closed it again. George patted him consolingly on the arm.

⁂

The main part of the house was just as excessively decorated as the exterior, and the party was in full swing. The zombie doorman seemed to have actually been part of a theme, because all of the staff were dressed as zombies. Hazel looked away from them uncomfortably, memories of the very real blood she had seen flitting up in her mind.

The group stood awkwardly to the side, not fully sure where to go from here. Even Daisy, the one _invited,_ didn't seem to know exactly where to go. Fortunately, the choice was made up for them, as a young man in a rather ridiculous clown costume suddenly stopped in front of them, breaking into a grin.

"Ah!" He cried, hands thrown dramatically, "My cousin! So lovely to see you, especially after..." his grin dampened, hands stilling by his sides, " _everything_ that happened last year." Daisy's nose wrinkled, the mention of Fallingford ruining her mood immediately, "These must be your friends?"

"Yes." She replied, voice not quite icy (although it was a near thing). "This is Hazel, George, and, unfortunately, Alexander." Alexander rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

"A pleasure to meet you all!" Daisy's cousin replied, hands moving rapidly once more - this time, to go in for a handshake from each of them. "I'm certain the guest list said only _one_ plus extra per person, but I'm quite sure I can overlook that." His grin had returned, and they were all reminded quite sharply of Lord Hastings, despite the lack of genetic ties. "Oh, but I must introduce myself! I'm Charles Astley, of course, and this is my splendid Halloween party! It's all the rage in America, they say. I rather hope you enjoy it."

They all nodded, and Charles beamed. "Well, I must be off - other people to greet, you know how it goes - but it's been a pleasure talking to you!" He said, bounding back into the crowd as quickly as he had appeared.

"Well." George said, blinking, "he's certainly something."

"Rather a force of nature." Alexander agreed.

"Cousin Charles does rather take some getting used to, I'll admit. But he's nice enough, and doesn't care a jot what the papers say about Bertie." Daisy defended, frowning, "From what squinty said, he was rather more appalled the paper were publishing anything, rather than about what they _said_."

"Anyway," she continued, rushing past any pause in which someone could express pity over Fallingford, "we're in now. Let's make the most of it and eat as many Halloween-themed sweets as possible. And, of course keep an eye out for suspicious characters."

They all nodded, George adding, "Of course, if there is a case, it should be evenly split between the four of us." He and Daisy shared a challenging look, but Hazel butted in before it could amount to anything other than a stare-off.

"Of course we will, right Daisy?"

"Oh alright, if you insist."

"Speaking of suspicious characters," Alexander said, nudging George, "That person is using rather an excessive amount of fake blood. Murder isn't usually **that** messy."

"Who are you talking about?" Hazel asked, trying to look through the crowd.

"That person, over there, see? In the werewolf costume. That must be awful stuffy in here." Alexander replied, pointing to someone on the far side of the room.

"Oh, I see them!" Daisy said, craning her head. "Gosh, you're right, that is a lot of–" she suddenly cut off, paling.

"Alex," George hissed, looking faintly sick, "that _isn't fake blood._ "

"What?" He said, startled, "how can you tell?"

"Look at how it's dried," Daisy whispered, "usually they use red dye, but that's gone brownish around the edges, though it blends in to the costume a little. It's only reddish where it's deepest." No one questioned why she knew that, for the obvious answer was Bertie, and his mild obsession with theatre.

George nodded his agreement, adding, "And I doubt whoever lost that much blood is still _alive_."

"Hell." Hazel muttered, tugging on her witch hat, "I hoped we could avoid a case."

"On Halloween?" George said, slightly incredulous. "With all four of us here? Absolutely no way, we should have expected this."

"Doesn't mean I couldn't _hope_." She grumbled. " _And_ we haven't even gotten to try the confectionery yet."

"That _is_ a shame," Daisy admitted, watching the werewolf with careful eyes, "but a case is far more exciting than that." She looked at George and quickly said, "bagsie trailing the suspect!"

George sputtered, and then protested, "We have to be logical about this! You're the only one actually invited, so you're the only one who will actually be able to find our who they are. Trailing after the suspect would waste that!"

Daisy rolled her eyes. "Don't sell yourself short, I'm sure any of you could find out who they are from the staff. It's outrageous how much the police overlook them on matters such as this, don't you _dare_ pretend you're anything like those clodhoppers. On the other hand, I'm the only one who actually knows my way around, so I'm best for any game of hide and seek. Plus -" she added, "someone else needs to find the victim, and establish the chain of events."

George frowned, but acquiesced. "All right. I'll take putting a name to the costume, and Hazel and Alexander can look for the body and the motive." He looked to the two, who nodded, serious.

"Glad that's sorted out!" Daisy said, clapping her hands, wholly too excited to be investigating a probable murder.

"Promise you'll be careful?" Hazel asked, glancing at Daisy worriedly.

"Don't worry! Heroines never die." Daisy proclaimed with a grin, before slipping into the crowd.

"You know that isn't true." Hazel muttered to the empty air.

Beside her, Alexander winced.

"Right." George said, straightening his collar. "We'd best be off, too. Those three definitely interlink a lot to begin with, and she's right - the staff are the best bet. No point in splitting up yet."

⁂

Alexander's American chatter was a rather useful information collecting technique, and they were quickly acquainted with the staff (who were rather easy to find, as they were all dressed as zombies). He bounced around between waiters, asking harmless, fun questions peppered with more useful ones, while Hazel and George trailed in his wake asking the more pressing ones. Somehow, they ended up in the kitchens. So far, they'd learnt that the bouncer out front would know the name of the werewolf ("he's more of a doorman turned bouncer, so while he looks imposing he's actually just a huge softy"), and that they'd disappeared for a long stretch between 18:25 and 19:13.

The cook was a big man with a harried face, but he took some time to make sure they got some of the Halloween-themed cupcakes, for which they all thanked him profusely.

"Not a problem." He rumbled, smiling. "Now, you were talking about costumes, weren't you?"

"Yes!" Alexander said, sounding delighted. "I was saying that Clowns are all the rage back in America, but _George_ said -"

"That's ridiculous," George interjected, "because Clowns aren't even Halloween themed."

"Exactly!" Alexander exclaimed. "You're wrong, though. Clowns are plenty Halloween themed!"

"I have to disagree with you there," Hazel said, setting her cupcake down, "they're just _scary._ Things like witches and vampires and werewolves are Halloween themed."

The cook nodded in agreement, quite invested in the squabble.

"Yes," Alexander said, frowning, "but I haven't actually _seen_ any werewolves, so that point hardly stands. Have _you_ seen any?" He directed the question at the cook.

"Can't say I have. I barely leave the kitchen, after all." The cook said, shaking his head.

Before the trio could curse at yet another dead end, someone interjected, "Oh I have!". They turned to the speaker - a server of indeterminable gender, coming out of the pantry with a bag of ingredients. Like the rest of the staff, they were dressed as a zombie, short hair mattered with _actual_ fake blood. "A man dressed as a werewolf came by about half an hour ago, with a woman - a Medusa, I think? - and went down into the wine cellar." The server said, face scrunched up in thought. "He looked rather lovestruck."

The trio shared a glance, as that fit the timescale, and George spoke, "What did he look like, under the costume?"

"Oh," the server said, thinking, "sort of handsome, I guess, in a lean way. He had wood-brown hair, a bit shaggy-looking. Kind of unkempt, but in that purposeful way those fashionable lot do. You know." They said, as though that made any sense and the trio understood what they meant by that. Hazel nodded anyway. "Why did you want to know?"

"Oh, just wondering!" George said quickly, which the server seemed to take at face value.

"Did you see them leave the cellar?" Alexander asked, trying his best to sound mildly curious.

"Heavens, no. I rushed back off to waiter shortly after, so I have no idea where they went - at least," they paused, suddenly looking concerned, "I hope they left."

"I'm sure they did." Hazel soothed, "afterall, we saw the man not fifteen minutes ago."

They nodded, but suddenly looked vaguely troubled. The cook gave them a reassuring smile. "Sam, you know what those people are like. They'll look round the cellar, sample a little (or a lot), and then leave. I'm sure you just missed them."

Hazel, Alexander and George, however, were not so sure.

⁂

After getting a bit (massively) lost, the trio managed to find the wine cellar through mostly trial and error, seeing as they could not ask for directions without it seeming suspicious.

The door was unlocked, and swung open upon a gentle push from Alexander, who had volunteered to go first (while George laughed at how hard he was trying to impress Hazel).

They trapezed down the stairs cautiously, lighting growing duller the deeper into the wine cellar they got. It also grew fairly cold quite quickly, which did not at all help its foreboding aura. The lights were out, and Alexander reached over to flick them on and –

George's, first, wishful, thought was, 'someone's smashed a hell of a lot of red wine bottles down here.' He quickly dismissed it, because red wine does not dry brown.

"Christ." He muttered, grimacing, "that's a lot of blood."

Hazel had put a hand to her mouth, looking suddenly very far away. "She's dead, alright." She mumbled, averting her eyes after a second. The sight settled itself into her little box of memories labelled, "Miss Bell", and Hazel knew it'd stay there a while.

Alexander swore, white face going even whiter before clasping his hands over his mouth with a quickly muttered, "I think I'm going to hurl." He didn't, though under his clown paint he turned faintly green.

Lain on the floor, with her eyes wide open, was a young woman, dressed as medusa. The **remains** of a young woman dressed as medusa, with her body quite violently mutilated. She looked like she'd been ripped apart, deep cuts displaying more of the human anatomy than one ever really wanted to see.

"Alex," George said, sounding faint, "be a dear and go call the cops, would you?"

"Sure." He said, taking the stairs three at a time.

Hazel and George were left staring at the corpse. "One of us needs to go to the bouncer for the guest list, but someone needs to stay here to make sure nobody else walks in on _this_." Hazel pointed out, still not quite looking at the poor woman.

"I think I should stay behind. Not to insult you, but people are more likely to listen to me."

"Sexism." Hazel said, drily, "Working in our favour."

With one last fugitive glance at the victim, Hazel also took her leave.

George gave her one last careful look before slowly taking the stairs, intent on standing in front if the cellar as, if it came to it, a physical block between the party goers and the corpse beneath them.

⁂

Alexander burst out of the cellar feeling shaky all over, and rushed to the nearest phone to dial the police. Luckily, they'd passed one in the hallway on the way there, so he knew where to go.

"What's your emergency?" A very bored sounding policeman asked down the phone.

"Someone's been murdered at Ambleford Estate-" Alexander started, but he was quickly cut off by an exasperated sigh, "We don't take prank calls, kid. Wasting police calls is -"

"With all due respect, sir," Alexander interrupted, "this is not a prank call. I'm very serious."

"Yes, and I suppose next you'll be telling me the victim was mauled to death by a werewolf." The officer responded rudely. "All you jokesters think it's so funny to -"

"Sir, I'm not joking." Alexander interrupted again, panic crawling in his voice, "there's someone DEAD at the Estate!"

"Stop wasting my time, kid."

"My GOD!" Alexander roared at the officer, "I'M NOT PRANKING YOU, THERE IS A VERY REAL VERY DEAD WOMAN IN THE WINE CELLER." His voice broke a little, telephone jerking in his shaking hands. "DO YOU HEAR ME? THERE IS A WOMAN **DEAD** IN THE WINE CELLAR!" He knew he was being rather too loud, and someone from the party stuck their head into the hallway, concerned, but there was a body in the cellar and a _murderer_ on the loose and the stupid clodhopper wasn't listening. He slammed the receiver down, and instead dialed a number the two girls had forced him to memorize - Mr M's number.

⁂

Hazel rushed along the corridor, passing staff and guests alike (but no Daisy, or werewolf), frantically searching for the entrance. Eventually, she found the hall, and from there, the parlour, and thus the entrance. In her haste, she almost tumbled out of it. The bouncer looked at her, bewildered.

"Friend of Daisy Wells." She gasped out, trying to catch her breath, "I really need to know who two guests were."

He looked at her consideringly, and nodded. "Alright. Who do you - and I reckon _I_ \- need to look out for, miss?"

"Someone in a werewolf costume? Also, a young woman dressed as medusa. But the werewolf's who you need to look out for."

He thumbed through his guest list quickly, coming to a stop at 'W'. "Robet Wintour came dressed as a werewolf, and he was the only one, unusually. As for medusa –" he flipped through his book again, stopping at 'H' this time. "Ruth Harris would be your girl. She made chat about the myth surrounding her, which is why I remember her so well." He frowned, looking around before quickly adding, "and between you and me, I wouldn't be surprised if Robert has done something. He's got a bad reputation, and not the sort poor Albert has."

It took Hazel a moment to figure out who he was talking about, before she remembered that Bertie's real name was actually Albert. "Oh - yes." She admitted, going through the pros and cons of telling the doorman what was going on. "He had blood all over his costume."

The man frowned, "He didn't have blood when — _**Oh**._"

"Yes."

"Is she - miss, is she _alive?_ "

Hazel took a shaky breath, remembering the bloodstained floor and mutilated corpse, before breathing out, "No."

The doorman swore very quietly.

⁂

Roughly forty minutes earlier, Daisy split off from the group to trail the werewolf, Robert Wintour. He weaved his way through the guests, staying completely silent but therefore struggling to escape the crowds (his voice was scratchy and a little hoarse, like he'd been yelling, the one time he'd told someone in his way to shove it), obviously trying to make sure no one figured out who he was. It was, in all honesty, rather a stupid plan, as it only made him _more_ memorable.

Daisy made sure to keep a reasonable distance and maintain conversation with other guests for cover, which was vaguely infuriating due to all the comments about Fallingford. You'd think they'd have something better to spend their time on, not inane gossip about an event none of them were present for.

To be fair, there was also the usual chatter about other baseless allegations ("Have you heard about that Lord's son? A right character, by all accounts..." "The local university has had a huge influx of new students, and they're such rascals, did you hear ‐" "Lady Shallot had a _"lady friend"_ over, I'm certain she's —") but by virtue of Charles's relation to them, the Fallingford scandal was on everyone's lips.

So, she drifted from conversation to conversation, getting angrier and angrier with every mention of Fallingford, and watched as Robert tried to get out through the front. Eventually, he seemed to realise that that was a pointless endeavor, and switched tracks- looking for any exit at all. He made a beeline for the one Daisy knew led up into the second floor, and she followed silently after.

Free of the crowds, he half-sprinted along the short corridor and up the stairs, making a completely unsubtle amount of noise. Daisy waited a reasonable thirty seconds before slipping away from the couple she was talking to (the most boring conversation about school she'd ever had) and into the corridor after him. While he made the most awful racket, she was dead silent.

Daisy poked her head round the top of the stairwell just in time to see him turn round a corner, deeper into the house. Curse her cousin, for making his house so complicated and easy to hide in. She followed him up multiple flights of stairs (Ambleford Estate really was unreasonably large), and it became increasingly clear he was trying to put as much distance between himself and the party as possible. Eventually, on the top floor, he stopped. 

She watched as he took a fugitive look around before removing his mask, revealing untrimmed stubble and messy brown hair. That was not the part that struck Daisy, though. No, it was his expression. Completely blank, but with something very dangerous lurking beneath.

Okay, she'd seen him now. Could give an accurate description of him now. Knew whereabouts he'd be. So she could definitely leave the man _alone._ Daisy doesn't like to think of herself as someone who would run from a fight, but even heroines need to pick and choose their battles.

She took a step backwards and, to her horror, the floorboard creaked loudly. His head snapped towards her, the ghost of a smile (or perhaps it's evil brethren) passing his face.

"What are you doing here, little miss?" He asked, setting the werewolf mask on a dresser. Daisy took another step back.

"I was just wondering where you were going. This _is_ my cousin's house, and I don't want anything to go missing." Daisy bluffed, folding her arms.

"Try again." He snarled, stepping towards her. Daisy found herself backing away. For once, she didn't know any way to talk herself out of it.

So, instead, she went for reckless bravo.

"Why did you kill... " she paused, running through the catalogue of rumours she'd heard on the way there, "the woman in the medusa costume?"

"Why?" He laughed, incredulous, " **because she wouldn't let me have her**."

Daisy backed away very fast at those words. Okay. Not just a murderer, a guy who won't take no. Possibly the two worst combinations in human history.

"And if you know as much, I can't have you spilling now, can I?" He said, something manic and furious splitting his face. From within the pockets of his costume, he withdrew a bloodied knife.

Daisy turned on her heel and _sprinted,_ heart hammering in her throat. Behind her, she could hear Robert yell, furious footsteps following her down the stairs. She reached the banister and swung herself around it, practically leaping down the stairs. Her cape flew out behind her, and Daisy had a moment of appreciating how fittingly dramatic that was, before her feet hit the last step and she bounded off, back towards the hall and its dense crowds. It would be neigh impossible to get rid of her once she was there.

Running like her life depended on it (which it rather did), she flew through the halls like a bat out of hell. Robert was, unfortunately, gaining ground, and Daisy realised with a shock of horror that there was no way she'd be able to outrun him the entire way back to the party. She needed to distract him, or throw him off her tail, or _something_. 

Rounding another corner, she was suddenly brought to a jarring halt when his hands caught her cape. It cut her breath off, and she recalled George's words from earlier that night. God damn it, he was _right._ Frantically, she reached for the clasp and let her (wonderful, expensive, beautiful) cape go. Something nicked her back as she tore off, and it _stung_.

Robert stumbled, the lack of resistance sending him tumbling backwards with a yell, and Daisy took his momentary distraction to sprint into one of the side room, silently closing the door.

She looked around her and– there! A window. Rushing over to it, she pried it open, and, thanking her foresight to wear climbing shoes, swung herself out of it, quickly catching her footing on the uneven stone. Sure as a mountain goat, she fled down the side of the building as quietly as she could.

Halfway down, she noticed cars parked in the driveway, and quickly deduced it must be the police. Which meant the the others had found the body, at the very least. She was vaguely alarmed to realise that one of the cars parked out front was her Uncle's. Actually, now she was looking, she could see him.

She was going to be in so much trouble.

⁂

She gave a very brief statement to the police on Robert's whereabouts, giving them very clear directions, before her Uncle swooped in like a very cross, very concerned mother hen.

Once Uncle Felix had exhausted his worried yelling, he pulled her into a tight hug, half-snarled, "Don't you dare do that _again_ ," and dragged her over to his car to check her over for injuries. Hazel stood there, looking equal parts worried and exasperated, with Alexander (looking faintly green and also rather angry) and George (as put-together as ever) off to the side.

She'd scraped her hands during the fast descent, and they stung awfully, but her uncle seemed more concerned about her back (which he'd realised was bleeding only _after_ giving her a hug, and then promptly freaked out about).

"Honestly, I don't know why you're so concerned. It only nicked me." Daisy muttered, trying to bat away Uncle Felix's concerned hands.

"Daisy, you got _stabbed!_ " Hazel exclaimed, semi-despearingly.

"By a _murderer!_ " Alexander added.

"Oh honestly, I was only lightly stabbed." Daisy protested, shooting her uncle a glare. "Honestly, uncle, stop fussing."

George, whose parents were in fact doctors, raised an eyebrow at her protests. "Daisy, that could very well be serious. Let him fuss."

Daisy glared at him.

**Author's Note:**

> If you're wondering what Daisy said to the doorman, the exchange went something like this:  
> "Hi! I'm The Honrable Daisy Wells, should be on the list!"  
> "Sure are, miss."  
> "Right, well, I've got a few extra friends I want to get in, so if I can get them into the house without you seeing, can I keep them in?"  
> [Laugh] "Sure, if you want. I'd let you in anyway - the party's not that exclusive - but you can do what you like."  
> "Alright, brilliant! Thank you!"
> 
> Also if you're wondering what happened to Robert, the police found him in the hands of the doorman and Sam, with a nasty concussion. He was arrested :)
> 
> A big thanks to Clickingkeyboards and WritesEveryBlueMoon for being my betas!


End file.
